


RQR

by hyperchroma (illizarov)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illizarov/pseuds/hyperchroma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Reality, in its barest form, begins with a subject and ends with a verb.<br/>Forget about the softness of human flesh sprouting from his fingertips, or the toughness of ghoul skin.<br/>He just wants to be with Kaneki. In the same world.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	RQR

_Tracing back to when everything lost balance isn't easy._ Hide knows that, and he's making an effort. His best effort.  
_There are a lot of things wrong with life._ Hide thinks, as he pulls up at the Kusaoka's, told to collect bits and pieces left by Kaneki, a year ago when he left for university. _There are a lot of things Kaneki should not need to go through._ He maneuvers a box full of books onto the backseat. There are, or has been, endless possibilities other than his friend, best friend, to go missing without a goodbye. Hide wonders why Kaneki didn't pick them.

 _But in the end, Fate has a way pushing people around, off their paths._ Hide closes his door with a kick, and toes off his shoes. He lines up the books, some he has in common, on his bookshelf. And by the spines of them, even with the same cover from the same edition (because they have bought books together, so often), one can easily tell how the owner reads their books. Hide's books have a more wrinkly spine, corners of pages folded from haphazard stuffing into a schoolbag. Kaneki's are neat, well protected. The books never opened past 90 degrees, and he has never folded pages.

 _Where should I start?_ Hide stares at the neat arrangement of Kaneki's books. He pulls out "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad, though he doesn't know why.

\---

Hide thinks he's seen Kaneki on the street. He wouldn't have, but there's no harm in imagining (fantasising) a bit. So many people of the same height and similar features; so many people who would share the same interests as Hide himself. So many people in this world, of so many people he knows, he had to lose track of Kaneki Ken.  
Not that he doesn't have an idea of where he is, right now. Nineteen years of being tells him, in the end, it's not how you do it but _did_ you do it matters, after all. He did. He looks at the familiar name that got called out during homeroom on thousands of repeats, or the way he can immediately spot the word "ghoul" in five different newspapers a day. The way he dreams of him and becomes feverish by the morning, he hopes he would never get to know.

"Morning. How may I help you?" Says the receptionist at the desk, under a person-wide logo of CCG.

"I'd like to apply for a job here. Here's my CV."

\---

Hide dreams of meeting Kaneki under different circumstances, every time. Hide as an officer facing the lone-eyed ghoul, Hide as an officer ready to be fed on, Hide as an officer killing all of Kaneki's ghoul friends, leaving him alone as unidentified.  
All of this is not how he wanted to meet Kaneki again.

Of course, some more unrealistic (relative to a dream) scenarios managed to come up. For example, them meeting again in high school, or them seeing each other on the street, Kaneki smiling sheepishly at him with two car lanes between them, hugging a book. He has also dreamt of laying kisses on him, temporarily forgetting Kaneki was a half-ghoul, and saw him shiver.

 _Unrealistic._ Hide skims over the newspaper article, and clips it neatly in a clear folder. What's realistic is what's going on now. Instead of motives and theories, actions play a larger role in shaping reality.  
Hide's hands stop around the scissors as he sees the next article: ghoul massacred diners.

Reality, in its barest form, begins with a subject and ends with a verb.  
Forget about the softness of human flesh sprouting from his fingertips, or the toughness of ghoul skin.  
He just wants to be with Kaneki. In the same world.

\---

The first time he dreamt of Kaneki with heat pooling in his stomach was when he was fourteen. It was merely a sway of his hair in the wind that roused him, and he knew nothing better to do with himself, then.  
So, Hide's certain, he'd recognise Kaneki from far away. His response could range from embarrassing to "the secondhand embarrassment is so strong everyone surrounding suffers from radiation burns".

\---  
The most illogical things happen in dreams. A while back, Kaneki told him, _I've died once. Do you know?_ The second last Hide can remember was an apology, Kaneki glancing across the smooth expanse of the library desk between them. _Sorry I'm not here with you._ He said. Hide choked but did not wake up. He gripped the edge of the table, though it felt strangely soft. _What are you talking about?_ He asked. _You're here with me, now. Aren't you?_  
He had seen more than enough the apologetic faces of Kaneki. Whether it be for spilled coffee, or feeling he had bothered a family. This time, a frown coupled a mismatched smile. Soft, lopsided.  
_Take care, Hide._ He said, barely audible even they were in the quietest corner of their university library. _I always die to live again._

Kaneki stood up to leave the desk.

Hide opened his eyes. What he saw was the white plane of his dorm ceiling, glowing in the soft morning, silvery light.

\---


End file.
